Having trumpeted my excellent comeback against Adam a week or so back, it would feel dishonest not to mention that he destroyed me yesterday, 6-0, 6-4. Neither of us has bageled the other like that in a very long time. He was crushing the ball deep into the corners, coming in to the net, and volleying well. No excuses.
I keep being unable to get to bed earlier. Try as I might I cannot kick the habit of watching some TV, however mediocre, from 9-10, then following that up with sports highlights and (the worst) some short videos which I get served to me by Facebook. Natalie correctly asserts that this is basically TikTok and I have no counterargument. Why I need an adrenaline rush of danger -- skateboarding, parkour, skydiving, death diving, trampoline tricks, last night it was British rally racing -- that I can't tell you. A suspicious amount of the content which sucks me in is sponsored by Red Bull or Monster. It probably doesn't help me sleep to get this energy bolus just before I hit the pillow.
In fact, it's not hard to look at this thrill dependency as the nearly exact opposite of yesterday's post about accepting limits and learning to let go of things. Olympia Dukakis character's classic formulation from Moonstruck, that men chase women because they fear death (which I think I've posted before but here it is again for your delectation), comes to mind. Since experience earlier in life has taught me the dangers of chasing women, I watch crazy guy shit before bed and end up not getting the optimal amount of sleep. Which is admittedly more about fearing aging than fearing death, but they're pretty similar fears.
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